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Make way, NBA Ballers, Juice, Conglomerate, Emmaculate on the beat |
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(Juice) |
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Man, we up late, watchin old tapes of the greats |
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The only hoop, was a milk crate, we practice late |
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'till like seven or eight, tryin to get in shape |
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Like I got a cast on, tryin to catch me a break |
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It all started put with a dream of being famous |
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Making players on every other team know what my name is |
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So I did my workout routines on the daily |
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And no, I wasn't looking to clean, they didn't play me |
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But soon as I jumped on the scene, they had to pay me |
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I celebrated, got myself some bling, it was crazy |
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Pregame warm-up, the trainer's stretching me |
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A million on the line, plus the fame and legacy |
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A pride much bigger than the name and cheddar though |
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Cuz soon as they threw him in the game, I let it go |
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Forever rated, I never hesitated |
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Now my whole career is in drive, I'm designated |
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(Chorus) |
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You gotta come up, gotta put your life on the line |
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To try to make it out the hood in these trifling times |
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You gotta come up, you gotta makes some ends for your crew |
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You got your whole block depending on you |
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Look dog, get your game up, four hundred shots a day |
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And you could hit 'em from a block away, that's what's up |
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You gotta come up, you ready for the lime light |
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You saying it's your time right |
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(Juice) |
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Back in college, I learned to hit a trey incredible |
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Now I am one rich NBA professional |
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Too quick, and even if you were to see a pass |
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The next thing you know, you down thirty at the half |
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And no it's not a game jo, he for real |
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The top scorer but, he lead the league in steals |
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The league endorsements, he really need the deals |
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And it's all good 'cause he be hitting threes for real |
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Plus, he get excited when he sees a mill |
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To buy a crib for his momma just so she could chill |
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As a kid he was cold, three degrees for real |
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So that's why the necklace is freezing still |
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And he ain't goin back to the hood he came from |
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So don't be surprised how good the game come |
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Lift off, watch me approach the skies |
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And if I catch you trying to jump, you getting posterized |
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(chorus) |
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(Juice) |
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I be dunking so much 'till it's hurtin my arm |
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And I keep weighin millin like I work on a farm |
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I know you saw me at the garden, lil' daddy I lit it up |
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Dribble, got three seconds to get it up, to half court |
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See, me losing, that's my last thought |
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I jumped so high, I need a passport |
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But not you, 'cause I could make you travel without one |
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I win, you lose, the only possible outcomes |
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Hit a couples treys on you player, that's six more |
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Your coach cannot hit him when he shot with that clip board |
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So you could let your whole click stick me |
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But homeboy, you minimal wage, you six fifty |
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You know why I ain't nice to opponents |
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'Cause I beeen waiting all my life for this moment |
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Like I'm Phill Collins, still balling it's on |
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And even when it's man to man, I still stay in my zone |
